Arpeggio
by Kitten Kisses
Summary: FE7. For the Alphabet Meme on LiveJournal. Pairings and characters WILL VARY by chapter depending on what people requested. So keep an eye out! Z is for Zero, and was suggested by Xirysa! Kent/Lyn. COMPLETED.
1. A is for Anarchy: Kent, Lyndis

**A is for Anarchy  
By: Manna

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**

…_**xOx…**_

This Is the Fault of: Qieru

Anarchy (ān'ər-kē): absence of any form of political authority.

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…_**xOx…**_

Government keeps them apart.

He's dissected the situation a million different ways, and he always comes up with this one, simple answer.

It isn't her choice to be a lady of Caelin; it had just happened that way, as he knows all too well. If things had turned out differently, if he hadn't found her in Bulgar…he wonders where she might have ended up. He likes to tell himself that she would be fine, just fine, because the mere thought of her _not_ being fine—even in a nonexistent timeline—makes his chest ache almost as much as it does when he dwells on the fact that she cares about him, and he for her, but neither of them are allowed to say anything.

But he and Sain found her there in Bulgar, they caught up to both Lyndis and Mark. They fought and won against a bunch of two-bit men hoping to earn some money by spilling royal blood, and now, Lyn is Lady Lyndis; she is a noble, a swordfighter, and most importantly, a woman.

He can see her sleeping from where he stands on night watch, ensuring the army's safety. Her back is curved, her legs pulled up, and her features relaxed. It makes him happy to look upon her in such a state, free from the burdens that she has no choice but to bear.

Sain knows how he feels about Lyndis, knows it and both disapproves and encourages him at the same time. His friend means well, but he can't possibly understand. Oftentimes, he asks why Kent hasn't yet approached her, hasn't confessed to loving her for over a year. How can a man possibly be happy merely watching the woman he loves, never saying anything?

No, Sain won't understand, so Kent doesn't try to explain. Words come to the other man so easily, and they flow faster and with more power than a river after a spring rainstorm. But words are just that—_words_. Words can mean nothing, but they can also mean everything. People are condemned to death by a word, are pardoned by a word.

Words can save and build worlds, but they can also bring them crashing down.

It isn't the right time to say anything.

Sain always sighs and says that it will _never_ be the right time if he keeps waiting.

But he has to wait. As long as their benevolent Lady Lyndis is just that—a lady—he will have to wait to say anything to her. It isn't his place, his right.

At one time, he would have quietly backed down, blindly following orders and not his heart. But things are different. _He_ is different. Every time she smiles at him, it's that much harder for him to keep from speaking those all-powerful words that he knows he needs to say.

Before his brown eyes had chanced to meet her green, he had been the perfect knight—dutiful, loyal, and oh-so blind. But now he can see, and he doesn't dare close his eyes for fear that when he opens them again, she will be gone.

He enjoys being a knight, serving a royal house, barking orders and also following them, but at the same time, he curses his station, his canton, his government, because they keep him away from the woman he loves.

There is a wall between them, constructed by Caelin. It tells him that what he feels is wrong, that his fate is that of a knight, always a knight, living and dying in the name of Lord Hausen and Lady Lyndis. He'll gladly serve, but Hausen will die, and Lyn will return to the plains, eventually; then where will he be? What will he do?

Serve, that damnable wall tells him. Serve. Serve. _Serve_.

Command Caelin's troops, give orders to lower-ranked men, and follow those from higher-ranked officers. Serve.

Patrol the hallways and sit at a desk, filling out paperwork. Serve.

Serve until you're old and grey. Serve until your life drains from your body. It's the duty of a knight, isn't it? To live and die by the sword and in the name of Caelin! To serve!

_Serve until your damn heart gives out._

He's half-tempted to, but, no! He doesn't want to, not anymore. Not if he isn't serving Lyndis. He'll die for her sake, and gladly. He'll defend her name, her life, her honor… until his very last breath.

She's still sleeping, and the steady rise and fall of her chest brings him some semblance of peace. She's alive, well, unharmed, happy, and still so very beautiful. He turns away from her, eyes skimming over the horizon to check for signs of anything unusual. He sees nothing, but he doesn't turn back to her.

The wall won't let him.

He sighs, not angrily, but with determination.

Some day soon, he swears, he will break that wall down. He'll destroy it, and then—_only then_—will it be the _right_ time for him to kneel before her and say everything he's never had the right to say.

In that moment, when the structure that keeps them apart crumbles, his loyalty, his fealty…will belong to more than Caelin, more than Lord Hausen and Lady Lyndis. It will belong to, _above_ _all_ _else_, Lyn.

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…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

This is the Alphabet Meme. These prompts were all given to me by people over on LiveJournal. So forgive the lameness where you find it (some of these were hard to write!), and enjoy what you can! These will vary in length from just over 100 words to over 1,000. I should update this once a day for 26 days since I have all 26 prompts written. (I also have a second set of 26 'fics to write.) Thank you for reading; feedback is very much appreciated!


	2. B is for Bacon: Vaida, Heath

**Bacon  
By: Manna

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**

…_**xOx…**_

This Is the Fault of: Qieru

Bacon (bā'kən): the back and sides of the hog, salted and dried or smoked, usually sliced thin and fried for food.

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_**...xOx...**_

It was heavenly.

No, better than that.

But she would never admit it. Ever. Not in a million years. Not unless threatened by a dragon—and really, what were the chances of _that_ happening?

Heath, six years old and quite annoying, had grease all over his face and his hands. He wasn't paying her any attention. She took that opportunity to let out one of those sighs that screamed, _I'm in Heaven!_

Luckily, the sound of crunching—loud, mouth-watering crunching—drowned out her sigh. Wordlessly, with her face completely expressionless, she reached for the last slice of crispy, greasy goodness.

_Crunch._

_Crunch._

_Crunch._

She sighed again, happily—_ah, bacon_—as happy as Vaida ever managed to get. If there was one thing she loved to indulge in, it was food. Good food. Good, greasy, bad-for-you-and-could-possibly-kill-you food. She would swear by it, though…swear that it built character, and strength, and agility needed on the battlefield.

"What was that?" Heath asked, bacon stuck to his face.

"What?"

"That sound! It sounded like—" his imitation reminded her of a wyvern who landed wrong and needed immediate medical treatment, "—like that!"

"Eat your food, you bloody moppet."

"Yes ma'am!" he grinned, his front teeth missing and bacon grease now sticking to his forehead thanks to a crisp salute—she expected nothing less!—before promptly going back to his food.

So he wasn't a perfect soldier—yet—but nobody could say she didn't feed the little brat well.

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…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

Vaida knows good food when she tastes it, fools.


	3. C is for Carnal: Limstella, Sonia

**Carnal****  
By: Manna

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**

…_**xOx…**_

This Is the Fault of: Forced Simile

Carnal (kär'nəl): Flesh-devouring; cruel; ravenous; bloody.

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**_...xOx..._**

She had no desires, no wishes, no hopes or dreams or anything that someone human might have. Sonia was like her, so much like her, and yet…even Sonia wanted, craved, hoped and yearned.

Sonia thought herself to be human.

It was all so laughable, but Limstella did not laugh. She merely stared, golden eyes blinking down at what had been the morph named Sonia. She had work to do, so much work, gathering quintessence for Lord Nergal, gathering and gathering and not bothering to think or care or understand the sources she took it from.

Human. What was it like to be a human? Her thought process eventually completed itself; it must be wonderful. Why else would her fellow morph want to become human? Maybe it was because she had lived with the humans, had married one.

Her curiosity abated. It did not matter. Nothing mattered except quintessence. Quintessence was important to Lord Nergal.

She blinked down at Sonia again, just once. The morph, given the name Sonia, was merely that—a morph. She had a name, a yearning to become human, and she had desired it so much that she had even believed herself to be human.

Morphs had no quintessence.

Therefore, Sonia had no purpose, no use.

She was nothing.

Limstella left without a backward glance.

She had work to do, so much work, and more quintessence, so much quintessence… Lord Nergal would be most displeased if she failed.

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…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

This was something different, I think. Well, different from what I usually write.


	4. D is for Defenestration: Wallace

**Defenestration  
By: Manna

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**

…_**xOx…**_

This Is the Fault of: Sardonic Kender Smile

Defenestration (dē-fěn'ĭ-strā'shən): An act of throwing someone or something out of a window.

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**_...xOx..._**

It was hot, and he was sweating. Profusely.

Layers of clothing and armor covered his body. The sun blazed overhead, glaring through the small windows of the fortress the army was currently occupying.

He could feel sweat trickling down his neck, soaking into his shirt. It was a rather uncomfortable feeling, but a good sweat meant hard work had been accomplished, and he was certainly not ashamed of that!

He laughed, the sound echoing from the stone wall to his left over to the other side of the battlements where a few lame hired hands blinked in confusion—just long enough for the end of Sain's lance and Fiora's javelin to swipe their very lives from their chests.

Grinning, he turned to face his next unfortunate opponent.

"You dare to challenge me? I, General Wallace, will crush you in the name of Lady Lyndis of Caelin!"

The man was stout, and held a battered-looking axe. His expression: afraid. His knees: knocking.

Wallace, former general of Caelin, who fought foes to honor Lyndis of Caelin, almost felt bad for what he was about to do. But then he remembered how men had converged on the kind, benevolent Lady Madelyn and Lord Hassar, had killed them and their people in cold blood, had left Lady Lyndis alone, and he twirled his lance in his hand once before thrusting it forward, straight through the man in front of him.

Bloody? Yes.

But he had dared to challenge not only the army, but Lady Lyndis by extension. And a threat to Lady Lyndis was not something the former general of Caelin took lightly!

Wallace laughed again, giving Sain and Fiora time to slay yet more enemies. Laughter, he would explain to Wil as soon as he could find the lad, boosted the morale of your own troops, and confused the hell out of the enemy. A very effective strategy, indeed!

As the man on the end of his lance gurgled, Wallace paused. Now he had a slight issue. A dying man was stuck to his precious, beautiful, expensive—and most importantly—trustworthy weapon.

Grunting a little, he lifted his lance, man and all, and shoved it through the opening beside him.

Okay, so the opening was a little small, and the dying man tried to protest, but the wall cut him off. After a bit of effort—and adjustment of the man—on Wallace's part, man and lance fit through the hole in the wall. Not well, but they fit.

A twist of his hands, a bit of shaking, and then the weight on the end was gone. Grinning triumphantly, he brought the bloodied weapon back inside before turning around, laughing heartily yet again.

"Who will face me, now? I, General Wallace, will lay low every foe!"

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…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

That shouldn't have been so much fun to write. It should be a crime!


	5. E is for Ephemeral: Kent, Lyndis

**Ephemeral  
By: Manna

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**

…_**xOx…**_

This Is the Fault of: Qieru

Ephemeral (ĭ-fěm'ər-əl): Short-lived; existing or continuing for a short time only.

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**_...xOx..._**

Death was all around her.

The man on her left that spent time hunting with her father, the women that watched her grow up, the girls she knew, the little boys she helped take care of. Blood was spattered across their clothes, over their faces. The women's dresses were torn; their bodies were limp, lying carelessly in the grass.

She shuddered violently at the sight. Where was her mother? Where…where was she?

She backed away from all the death, and she looked around, eyes scanning diligently for Madelyn, but she didn't see her. She heard her, though, heard screams and shouts and _knew knew knew_ who it was, who that voice, that desperate, frightened voice belonged to.

It chilled her blood.

She couldn't breathe, couldn't swallow. Her mouth was dry, her eyes wet.

The only emotion that flooded her body was fear. Anger had long ago fled, replaced by the desire, the _need_ to flee. To run. To leave and never, ever look back lest she lose her chance to escape.

Her mother was dead, she knew. The screaming had stopped; pleas had fallen on uncaring ears.

Her mind screamed at her to leave, but she couldn't move. She took one short, faltering step, and fell to the ground. It was the poison, all that poison, that damned poison! Her limbs shook, and her heart seemed to alternate between pounding and stopping.

She struggled to her feet again, barely able to stand. Her father's horse was right next to her, its grey muzzle familiar and strangely comforting. The mare nickered, nostrils flaring; Lyn could see the whites of the beast's eyes as she tossed her head in frightened confusion.

It had a simple rope halter and a blanket covering its back.

Her cold, shaking hands tried to grasp the equine's mane, and she struggled to pull herself up. She had to get away, had to ride for help, had to just…had to…

She swayed dizzily and fell to the ground again, landing on her back. She stayed there for a long moment, trying to gather her wits. The sound of fire swirled around her, the sound of men shouting, of women and children screaming. Of her father.

She couldn't leave him. Madelyn was dead. He would be devastated at the news. She had to keep him from seeing her body, seeing what had happened to his beloved wife. She had to go to him.

A hand clamped down on her shoulder, and she cowered, almost against her own will.

No, no no no no no _no_…

Her mind swam; everything around her started to blend together.

_Father_, she cried, but when her mouth opened, the words refused to leave.

The hand on her shoulder tightened its grip, and she felt so sick she wasn't sure if she could keep from emptying the contents of her stomach all over herself.

She fought the hand and the man it belonged to. Fought as best she could, which wasn't much. She knew she didn't have a chance, knew that she was so weak that nothing could help her. But she squirmed and protested weakly, hands trying to push herself off of the ground and away from the fingers that held her where she was.

She had to get away. She had to find her father and they had to leave. They had to leave before he found Madelyn and saw her dead, naked corpse. They had to leave before she didn't have a family, anymore.

But the man wouldn't let her go. He struck her, once or twice or a hundred times. It didn't matter. She had to get away from him before he hurt her like the other women had been hurt, before he did the same to her that someone else had done to her mother, had done to the girl three years younger than her that lived in the ger next to hers. She had to get away before she was another of the half-naked, bloody corpses lying on the stained grass.

She had never been so frightened, before, had never felt or understood what complete and utter _terror_ was. Now she knew.

Suddenly, the hand on her shoulder was gone, and she was left confused.

Fingertips brushed against her elbow, and a warmth settled over her that she couldn't quite explain.

Her eyelashes fluttered, and she awoke, eyes snapping open as she sat up. Around her, grass fluttered in a light breeze, and the tree next to her granted her shade. Still shaking, her hands fisted in the blanket that was now in her lap, and she blinked rapidly, holding back tears as she realized that she was safe.

The grass around her was not of the plains of Sacae, but of a hill in Caelin. The blanket covered her was woolen, and…and…

Her head whipped around to the side. She hadn't fallen asleep with that blanket on her.

Two horses grazed side by side, tethered to a low-hanging tree branch. She looked the other way; her wide, glassy eyes immediately found a pair of concerned brown ones.

"Lady Lyndis…" She knew he wanted to ask her if she was all right, but it was obvious that she wasn't—or hadn't been mere moments before.

How many years had passed since that day? Over three, she reminded herself. The memories of that morning would never leave her completely, but the sun, she noted, had barely moved in the sky since she had arrived on the hill. An hour. She had been asleep an hour, but she had relived the worst day of her life.

Her hands were still shaking as she wrapped them around him, clutching at the back of his shirt. She buried her face against his shoulder, waiting until she felt the warmth of his arms around her before she let her tears fall.

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…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

Sad, but probable.


	6. F is for Fissure: Kent, Lyndis

**Fissure  
By: Manna

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**

…_**xOx…**_

This Is the Fault of: Xirysa

Fissure (fĭsh'ər): A long narrow opening; a crack or cleft; the process of splitting or separating; division.

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**_...xOx..._**

Kent, Knight Commander of Caelin, was strong in both body and mind. The mental walls that he erected—either to protect himself or to keep others out—were tall and did their job well.

Lyndis, Lady of Caelin, was ready to tear them all down.

But how could she do so? She wasn't sure. Did he have a weakness?

"Oh, he absolutely does!" Sain said, but he refused to give her more information on the subject—personal obligatory promises and all that, he swore. So she hadn't pried.

She almost regretted that.

Kent had mentioned, quite earnestly, that he was by her side not because he had to be, but because he wanted to be. His heart wouldn't change, he had said to her, whether she was a lady or not, whether he was a knight or not.

Well, he was still a knight, and she still a lady, and they were back in Caelin, but he hadn't done so much as say another word. Perhaps his walls were even higher than they had been before.

She loved the man! And she knew that he loved her, too. Why else would he refuse an order just to tell her that he cared for her out of more than knightly responsibility?

Wordlessly, silently, she crept down the hall and past the few sentries that patrolled the large corridors at night. After a lot of effort and even more time, she made her way to Kent's room. It was small and rather drafty, but he was inside. That was all she really cared about.

It would be funny, she thought, to crawl into his bed next to him and not wake him up, just to see his reaction in the morning. But at the same time, she knew she'd scare the man half to death, and he'd probably think he'd done something horribly wrong. The door opened without a sound, and she found herself staring at his back.

His room was big enough for a small bed and a desk. A candle was lit, sitting on the corner of his desk; its flame flickered weakly in the draft that she could feel through her nightgown.

His head was pillowed on his arms, his face tilted sideways. Surprised, her eyebrows flew upward, but she quickly regained her composure and hurried over to him to get a closer look. He was fast asleep, his body turned slightly in his straight-backed chair.

Gently, she reached over and brushed his hair out of his face, fingers touching the little lines at the corners of his eyes and lips, and across his forehead. The silly man worked far too hard, sometimes. She wondered how late he had been up, working on reports or whatever it was he had to do.

She stroked the back of one of his hands and kissed the top of his head fondly; the motion made him shift, and it wasn't long before he opened his eyes.

"Lady Lyndis," he mumbled groggily, bowing as best he could while sitting. When he straightened back up, he paused.

She smiled, knowing that he had noticed her attire. Okay, so it probably was considered inappropriate to everyone in Lycia for an unmarried woman to be seen in her nightgown by a man. But Lyndis…did not care. First of all, it was just a stupid dress, except white, and thin. It covered her legs better than her regular clothes did, anyway.

She bent down and pressed her forehead against his, still smiling.

Okay, so it didn't cover her chest very well. Not nearly as well as her regular clothes. It was the middle of summer, after all. Kent didn't dare let his eyes stray; he just closed them, eyelashes fluttering slightly as he tried to wake up but failed.

His defenses?

_What_ defenses?

She kissed his nose and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly. He hardly responded except to hug her back weakly, but he was exhausted and probably very confused, so she let it slide. Pulling away, she fixed his hair and squeezed his shoulder.

"Go to bed right now before you work yourself sick," she ordered, though it sounded more like a sweetly spoken request by a very concerned, loving individual than any kind of order.

He nodded, his face flushing slightly in what Lyndis thought might be a delayed reaction.

"And tomorrow," she continued, pushing her finger into the center of his chest, "we're going to talk. You and me."

"A… About what, Lady Lyndis?" he asked, his voice still laced with sleep. He stumbled to his feet, and she put a steadying hand on his back before pushing him toward his bed.

"I remember a certain knight saying that he would stay by me always, and that his heart wouldn't change even if I wasn't a lady of Caelin. So…" she pushed down on his shoulders, gently, and he sank down onto his mattress. "We're going to talk about our future together."

And with that, she playfully ruffled the red hair she had just fixed and blew a kiss at him, smiling triumphantly at the dazed expression on his face.

Walls?

_What_ walls?

She swore she could hear the sound of them crumbling as she closed the door behind her.

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…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

BEHOLD! The most pointless 'fic in the world. Yes.


	7. G is for Gold: Hector, Farina

**Gold  
By: Manna

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**

…_**xOx…**_

This Is the Fault of: AnthraxPretzels

Gold (gōld): A precious yellow metallic element, highly malleable and ductile, and not subject to oxidation or corrosion.

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**_...xOx..._**

Farina only trusted two people in the entire world, and neither of those people were herself. No, she trusted her sisters, Fiora and Florina, the former being trustworthy out of her own moral obligations, the latter because she was too naïve not to be.

She had been telling herself that for so long that she scarcely knew any different. Fiora was still the strict, older sister, and Florina the shy crybaby, not to mention the youngest.

Ilia wasn't the kindest of places, but Farina had seen worse, had been there, had seen the poverty and the cold, frozen wastelands even in the heat of the summer. Ilia, at least, had a reason to be the way it was, with blizzards and the warmest months being too cold for most people to enjoy.

Precious few plants grew there, in Ilia.

But other places, stricken with the same level of poverty, had good soil, warm weather, rain and sun and still…_still_ people suffered in similar fashion.

She remembered going hungry, remembered Fiora risking everything to help her, remembered arguing and leaving to strike her fortune elsewhere. She couldn't say she regretted it, but sometimes she wondered how things might have turned out if she had stayed with her sisters.

Fiora was a tall, strong woman now, and Florina…wasn't quite the tiny, scared little thing she had left behind. What had happened to them? Why had Florina left? How could Fiora have let her go? They were fortunate, she thought, to have run into each other, to fight alongside one another.

Perhaps it was coincidence. Perhaps not.

Farina didn't believe in coincidences. She also didn't believe in herself.

She couldn't even trust herself because people—human beings—as a rule were untrustworthy. Oh, she knew the things people did for personal gain, out of spite, out of lust or anger or for money.

One thing was predictable.

One thing would always be there once you had obtained it.

One thing.

Money.

She had money, and a lot of it. She had more money on her person than any of the others in the army save for Lord Hector and Lord Eliwood. She doubted Lyn even knew what money was good for, despite the fact that she was a supposed noblewoman.

She made more money than Dorcas, than stiff ol' Kent, than Sain… She even made more than Fiora!

That twenty thousand gold would last her a long time if she didn't spend it all. No, Farina was good with money, now. She had paid Fiora's debts, had helped Dorcas—it wasn't like she really needed all that money, anyway—and she still had more left over than anyone else could possibly acquire in a year's time.

Florina thought that she hadn't changed at all, that she was still the same money-grubbing Farina that she had been years ago, before she fought with Fiora and left Ilia and its pegasus knights behind. But she really wasn't. She couldn't be the same as she had been back then, because she had seen more. Perhaps…she had seen too much.

Patting Murphy's neck, she sighed. She couldn't even trust her pegasus. Not really… He was, after all, merely an animal. Suddenly, he lowered his head, lips nibbling at something.

"Murphy, you stop that right now," she scolded, worried that he would get dirty—and really, a dirty pegasus didn't make a knight worth 20,000 gold look very good. She pulled back on his reins, tugging his head away from the object on the ground before crouching down to inspect it.

It was a pouch, a purse. It jangled when she shook it.

Farina didn't really trust anyone but her sisters. She didn't even fully trust herself.

Oh, the things she had done for money. She would never admit all of them; it would be shameful of her to do so. But she held the drawstring pouch in her hand and stared at it for a long, endless moment.

It belonged to someone rich; it was made of expensive leather, embroidered in golden thread. It was probably even real gold, she thought. It had to be either Lord Eliwood's or Lord Hector's—nobody else possibly had that kind of money on them.

The weight in her hand felt comfortable, warm. She thought about pretending as if it had been hers all along, but quickly dismissed that thought.

No, that wasn't right. She had done a lot of things for money; she had even been desperate enough to steal it. But she was the best-paid pegasus knight around, and she wouldn't dare risk it, not for more money. Being greedy never got a person very far, after all. It was like the tale of the little boy who put his hand in a jar to steal some nuts; he had so many in his hand that he couldn't pull his hand back out, and he was so greedy, so unwilling to drop any, that he ended up caught and flogged for his crime.

Standing up, she turned to look around for—!

"Ah!" Startled, she nearly dropped the bag of money.

His hand reached out and snatched it away from her before it could fall, though. Lord Hector of Ostia looked anything but pleased. "I took you for a lot of things, Farina—greedy, maybe a little dumb—but a thief? I can't believe it!"

"L-Look, you!" She pointed a finger at him, her eyebrows drawn together in annoyance. "I didn't steal anything, you big oaf!"

He shook the bag, making the coins jingle, "Then what were you doing with this?"

"I found it!"

"A likely story!"

"I found it right here on the ground, I did!"

"No, you didn't." Matthew sidled up next to Hector and shrugged. "Your—" he made quotation marks with his fingers, "—_noble animal_, did."

"You!" Hector whirled on Matthew.

The spy grinned and ducked away from his lord. "What about me, m'lord?"

"What were you doing, grabbing up my purse when I wasn't looking!"

"You shouldn't have one, anyway. Any sensible person wouldn't have paid 20,000 gold for a pegasus knight, you know." Rolling his eyes, Matthew sighed and shrugged again. "I just thought I'd see if this pegasus knight was trustworthy, you know? You don't even pay _me_ as much as you paid her—and I've been loyal to Ostia for years! Makes me wonder… Speaking of money, Serra wants some. She mentioned building orphanages or something… I'm tired of hearing about it."

"Eh? Wha—just, ugh, Matthew!"

But the man had disappeared before Hector could chase him down. Wearing armor sometimes had its disadvantages.

Farina tapped her boot against the ground and glared at her employer.

"_Fine_," he snapped. "I apologize for accusing you for something you _obviously_ didn't do. But if you wouldn't cling to money so much, people probably wouldn't suspect you!"

"There's nothing wrong with clinging to money! I've told you that before!"

"But it makes you look suspicious!"

"And I've told you before that I don't care what people think so long as I get paid!"

He threw his arms into the air and sighed heavily. "Just…do me a favor; stop going around telling everyone what you make. It's rude! Just earn your pay—without collapsing on me again—and keep your wages to yourself."

"It's not _my_ fault you were so desperate for assistance that you agreed to give me 20,000 gold." A smug grin settled over her features, but then it faltered, "A-And anyway, I've earned every bit of it, I have! Every last bit!"

"Yeah, yeah, things aren't over yet. So tether up your winged beast and get some gruel before crazy old Merlinus eats it all."

She took a step back, away from him. "You're not going to lower my wage."

"Who said anything about that?!"

She smirked. "Just checking. But I can take care of myself, you know! I don't need you to tell me when to eat and rest!"

"Wouldn't want you to collapse again, you know," he called over his shoulder as he wandered off, rolling his eyes just the slightest bit.

"H-Hey! Come back here!" Jogging, she caught up to him, Murphy following faithfully behind. "I'm not that stiff stick Kent, you know!"

"Of course not. You're female… Unless there's something you'd like to tell me… Maybe I ought to have checked, first."

She kicked him in the back of the knee, making him muffle a yelp of indignation as she crossed her arms and glared at him. "That's one thing your gold will never be able to buy!"

"Hey! Who says I need gold to find that out?"

"D-Don't you dare…"

"Pah." His expression suddenly turned bright. "What kind of man do you take me for, anyway? I pay you to work—not for anything else! Of course, anything else would just be a bonu—"

She kicked him again.

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

More pointlessness. I'm not very good at writing Hector or Farina, let alone Hector _and_ Farina. I need more practice with those two.


	8. H is for Hips: Lucius, Serra

**Hips****  
By: Manna

* * *

**

…_**xOx…**_

This Is the Fault of: Xirysa

Hip(s) (hĭp): the projecting part of each side of the body formed by the side of the pelvis and the upper part of the femur and the flesh covering them.

* * *

**_...xOx..._**

She stared. She blinked. She squinted, judging the distance from Point A to Point B, her hands gradually spreading apart until she had decided on a width.

Then, she pulled her hands backward, to compare, of course.

No! It was impossible!

So she tried it again. And again.

And again, with the same result every single time.

Throwing her arms up into the air, she shook her head and sighed.

"What's the matter, Sister Serra?"

"Oh, it's nothing," she answered, trying to ignore the bright blue of his eyes as he smiled concernedly at her.

He nodded, "If you insist…"

"Wait! Well… It is a small thing…"

"Oh?" He folded his hands in his lap and cocked his head slightly to the side. "Tell me, then. I'll listen."

A little flustered, and slightly annoyed, too, she fisted her left hand and smacked it down into the open palm of her right. "I just don't understand it!"

"What don't you understand? Maybe I can help."

"W-Well…" She flushed, having second thoughts, but being the outspoken person that she was, she plowed on. She wanted an answer to this strange predicament! "You are a man, aren't you?"

"M-My! Of course I am. I've told you that before… Why do you ask?"

"Oh, it just doesn't make any sense!" She stuck her tongue out a little and thought for a moment before nodding and sitting down next to him, her hands grabbing his own. "Brother Lucius!"

Startled, he could only blink once. "Y-Yes?"

"I know that I've taken vows of chastity, but I'm still a woman, aren't I? And you're still a man, aren't you?"

He nodded hesitatingly, looking confused, probably also a bit scared. More like terrified.

"Women are built to give birth to babies, right?"

"Uh, yes…"

She let go of his hands, settling her own on her waist as she gave him her best no-nonsense look, "So why are your hips wider than mine?"

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

More pointlessness!


	9. I is for Incoherent: Hector, Florina

**Incoherent****  
By: Manna

* * *

**

…_**xOx…**_

This Is the Fault of: Xirysa

Incoherent (ĭn'kō-hîr'ənt): without logical or meaningful connection; disjointed; rambling.

* * *

**_...xOx..._**

All he was hearing was sound.

Words? No, there weren't any of those. Just random ah, I, eh, ee, and whatever else his ears might have bothered to try and trick him into believing were actual words.

Seriously, he had to be a monster. There was no other explanation for it. A big, scary monster, he was. Maybe he could be called a Hectordactyl. What about a Hectorsaur? Personally, they all sounded pretty cool, but Hectorzilla—which Lyn had suggested when he asked for her input—was by far the best. And the worst, at the same time. Stupid Lyn, telling him to stay away from her friend. Why, he ought to have…!

Either way, what was in front of him was Lyn's friend. The little, tiny, itty-bitty lavender-haired girl that was actually pretty cute. It was too bad that what she was saying wasn't even in a language humans could understand. Maybe if he didn't look so intimidating…

He tried looking innocent and sweet. He failed.

She ran, taking her unintelligible babble with her.

Maybe he should settle for becoming a Hectordon.

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

HAH. More…pointlessness. :D


	10. J is for Justice: Nino, Lyndis

**Justice****  
By: Manna

* * *

**

**…_xOx…_**

This Is the Fault of: Forced Simile

Justice (jŭs'tĭs): the quality of being just; righteousness, equitableness, or moral rightness; the administering of deserved punishment or reward.

* * *

**_...xOx..._**

She tried not to cry, she really did. It wasn't fair, it just wasn't fair… Why did she have to fight her own brothers? Why? _Why?_

She remembered all the smiles and the laughter and the dancing while she stood on their feet. Lloyd loved her. Linus loved her.

So why did they have to fight?

Justice… there was no justice. Nothing in the _world_ could bring back her brothers, could make those cold, dead faces smile again, could allow her hear their laughter, could make them walk so that she could stand on their shoes while they waltzed her around the parlor.

Linus was dead… It didn't matter who had killed him, not anymore. And now…now Lloyd had joined him, had joined him and had _wanted_ to go.

They were enemies, now, he said. He told her to kill him.

"C-Can I…can I bury him?" she whispered, her hands clutching at the fabric of Lyn's sleeve. She didn't know how to dig a grave, how deep to make it. She didn't know anything. But… "It won't take long, I promise…"

Lyn turned them both around, away from the corpse, and pulled Nino close to her; the young mage pressed her face into the lady of Caelin's shoulder and sniffed a little, hugging her tight.

"I-I didn't want to kill him," she sobbed. "But he came at me, and…and…"

"I know… I'm sorry, I wasn't fast enough. I didn't want you to face him alone." Lyn pulled away and brushed the younger girl's hair out of her eyes before tugging a handkerchief out of her sash to wipe away the tears that were still falling. "Kent and Sain will bury him; there's no need for you to do that kind of work. Go find a nice, big rock and maybe some flowers to honor your brother."

She remembered laughing and dancing in the meadow behind the house they all shared but rarely occupied at the same time. They had helped her weave daisies in her hair. They told her that she looked beautiful.

She sniffed and nodded, hugging Lyn again, once, tightly—the older woman was so kind, motherly, even—before going in search of wild daisies and the biggest, most impressive rock she could find.

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

This was hard to write. I kind of fail at writing Nino, but also Lloyd and Linus. Their whole story was terribly sad, though. They really didn't have to die. At any rate, I had to include Lyndis because she's so sweet to Nino. I think she would look out for the girl. Or try to, anyway.


	11. K is for Kiss and Tell: Kent, Lyndis

**Kiss-and-Tell****  
By: Manna

* * *

**

…_**xOx…**_

This Is the Fault of: Sardonic Kender Smile

Kiss-and-Tell (kĭs'ən-těl'): Disclosing private or confidential information, especially in a first-hand account.

* * *

**_...xOx..._**

Kent had been, as per usual, minding his own business as he patrolled around the edge of camp. Unfortunately, they were in a forest, which could be both an advantage and a disadvantage. He was keeping a sharp eye out for anything unusual, when, suddenly, something grabbed his arm and yanked him to the side, behind a tree.

Initially startled by the situation, he quickly recovered, realizing exactly what was going on.

"Lady Lynd—mmmph…" He tried to protest—okay, he didn't try very hard—but her lips cut him off before he could even finish saying her name. He resisted about a third of a second.

Fortunately, they were in a forest.

Her hands wrapped around the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, and she wouldn't let him go—not that he minded at all, of course. They hardly managed to find any time together; time spent together _alone_ was rare and even harder to come by.

He deepened their kiss, his hands caressing her face, her neck, her back.

A loud _crack_ made them jump away from one another out of fear of being discovered. Both held their breath as best they could considering they had no oxygen left in their lungs. A minute passed, and nobody showed, nothing happened.

Sighing in relief, Lyndis pressed herself against him, nuzzling his face with her own. "Continue?" she asked, her voice soft and low.

"We shouldn't…" he whispered back; his lips were hovering a hair's breadth away from hers.

"But…" she murmured, kissing him slowly, speaking between each kiss, "—we—will."

He would have said that it was her fault they would continue, but he was too busy to bother speaking.

After a few minutes that hadn't lasted nearly long enough, they pulled away from one another, slowly. He took deep breaths and held her close, feeling content.

"Some day," she mumbled against his ear, "we won't have to stop…"

He face flushed the color of his armor and he tried to regain his composure but failed, "L-Lyndis! I—well, we…"

She petted his hair and smiled serenely. "Some day, we won't have to keep everything secret…but that day seems very far away right now."

"That it does." He pulled her just a little closer. He wasn't afraid of losing her, not anymore. They were in love with one another, a mutual, requited love; nothing would ever change that. But it was hard, sometimes, to hide everything from everyone.

As long as she was a lady and he merely a knight, their relationship would be frowned upon. Lyndis intended to return to the plains of Sacae, taking him with her; then, and only then, would they be allowed to announce their relationship to the world.

Until that day came, everything had to be kept quiet. Neither of them wanted to risk the wrong people finding out.

"I should go," she sighed, the tone of her voice sad as her fingers traced the sharp slant of his jaw.

It hurt him to know that she was unhappy at the thought of leaving, but he felt the same way; he didn't want her to go.

She touched her nose to his before kissing him one last time. "I don't want to sleep alone again tonight."

His face reddened a little, knowing that this time, she wasn't implying anything too improper; she hated being alone, and that was what she meant by her statement. "Some day," he answered, kissing her back, once, before finishing his sentence, "we won't have to do that, anymore."

"We'll make it," she said slowly, taking his hand and squeezing it before stepping away from his side. "Half the battle's already won."

And then, she was gone. Instantly, he was missing her presence. But as she had mentioned, half the battle—them getting together in a relationship at all—had already been won; they were victorious in that aspect.

He continued his patrol late into the night. Finally, Sain sauntered up to him, whistling softly, cheerfully.

"Good evening my boon companion!" he greeted, leaning casually against his lance.

"Good evening, Sain," he answered, turning back toward the camp. "Do you have everything?"

"Yes, yes, of course! But before you go, I have a favor to ask of—"

"No. If this is the same request you always make of me to talk to Florina on your behalf so that you can court her, the answer is _no_ a thousand times over."

"Oh, but Kent," the supposed older, wiser of the two of them whined. "She talks to you!"

"And I say for the final time, why would you want to court a woman who won't even talk to you?"

"I—that's not fair! She does talk to me! She's just—"

"Terrified of you and your ridiculous words that you spew all over the place to every pretty woman you see. Now, if you'll excuse me…"

"Okay, okay, fine. But Kent?"

"…Yes?"

"I have something to tell you. Serra and I were talking—she is _so_ sweet sometimes, did you know that?—and she said that Eliwood happened upon Hector and Farina together. Have you heard?"

"No, and it isn't any of my business." He kept a straight face, barely, immediately reminded of what he and Lyn had been doing earlier in the day.

"Well, you know, _everyone_ knows, now."

"And? What are you trying to say?"

One eyebrow raised, Sain grinned mischievously. "Well, I almost mentioned to Serra that _I_ saw something _far_ more interesting this afternoon, around dusk…"

His composure faltered, his eyes widening slightly as he felt sweat starting to bead at the back of his neck and on his forehead. "S-Saw what?" he asked, stumbling over his own words.

"A certain…knight of Caelin, and his lady liege." He poked his lance into the ground once, and again for every short, punctuated sentence he spoke afterward, "In the forest. Next to a tree. Minds not on work. Lips. Locked. Together. Tightly."

Kent did not flush. No, his skin turned white, an almost unhealthy shade. Guiltily, his gaze fell to the ground. "I…"

"I didn't think it was possible for one's tongue to remain in someone else's mouth quite so long, my friend. But at any rate…" He leaned forward, patting Kent's armored shoulder. "I would hate to accidentally let that slip. You know how I get when Serra and I start talking…"

"S-Sain, I can't believe you would…!"

"All you have to do is speak on my behalf to our sweet, shy little Florina! That isn't so terrible, is it?"

"N-No, I suppose it isn't." His mind was working a million miles a moment. Sain had seen far more than he should have. He had watched…had seen… Oh, Saint Elimine! And now he was being _blackmailed_ for it? By his own friend?!

"So, will you do it?"

"I… Fine, I shall. But you'll not breathe a word of what you saw to anyone! Do you understand?"

"I really don't think you're in the position to be making demands, partner. But yeah, of course. On my honor, your naughty little secret will never leave my lips!"

Kent sighed and started to walk off. Poor, poor Florina had Sain wanting to court her. Well, she could always refuse… It certainly wouldn't be his fault if she did. Ah, if only he hadn't been so careless! That cracking sound that had startled them had likely been Sain's big feet stepping on a twig. H-How rude of him, though, to watch afterward!

"Oh, and Kent?"

Sain's sing-song tone made him stop in his tracks, his back straight and stiff with something akin to fear chilling his blood. "Yes?"

"I jest, my boon companion." He laughed heartily and held his stomach as he doubled over. "Okay, so I did see you and Lady Lyn sucking face among the trees! And I did watch—but only because if I moved, you'd surely discover me sneaking away from Vaida—you know, she's pretty scary when she's mad!—and that just…that would have been uncomfortable! So I waited for you to go away." After a few minutes, the rogue knight managed to stand up straight again to wipe tears of mirth from his eyes. "And I waited… And waited… Anyway, Kent, don't speak to Florina—you'll scare the lovely lass half to death, most likely."

Kent was silent. He might have been glaring, but considering Sain knew far more than was necessary, he didn't want to compromise anything too terribly.

"I think I've almost won over Fiora, anyway. You know, you have Lady Lyn to show you how to have fun, and she has me."

"So, what—"

"Hm? Next time you decide to do something like that, make sure you're a little…further away from the camp, yes?" Grinning broadly, Sain shooed his redheaded friend off. "Don't worry! Your secret's safe with me. I just wanted to have some fun, you know. You take everything far too serious! Now get some sleep!"

Kent started to walk off, slowly, a little nervous and mostly just embarrassed. Of course Sain wouldn't blackmail him… No, the man was more honorable than that. He had known it, and yet…

"Oh, and Kent?"

That horrid sing-song tone again… He stopped. "What is it, Sain?"

"Some day," he called after him quietly, his voice serious and _clearly_ an imitation of Kent's own, "you won't have to sleep alone anymore."

His face red, Kent hurried off, reminding himself to warn Lyndis the moment he had a chance.

Warn her far away from camp, of course.

Far, _far_ away.

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

Okay, so Sain was just teasing. But still. Kent and Lyn need to be more careful or else they'll get caught! Next time someone finds them, maybe it'll be Serra, and you know she could never keep such interesting information to herself.


	12. L is for Lactose Intolerant: Lowen

**Lactose-Intolerant****  
By: Manna

* * *

**

…_**xOx…**_

This Is the Fault of: Kyusil

Lactose-Intolerant (lāk'tōs'-ĭn-tŏl'ər-ənt): unable to digest lactose (milk sugar) due to a deficiency of lactase, an enzyme for metabolization of lactose, unable to digest milk and some dairy products.

* * *

**_...xOx..._**

The pit of his stomach gurgled in annoyance.

Well, maybe…maybe it was more like _anger_.

God, St. Elimine… whoever would listen. He felt _so_ sick. So completely and utterly…ugh…

Everyone just…avoided him. And it was no wonder, either, with the way he was hunched over the neck of his trusty steed. His trusty steed that would no doubt end up covered in his regurgitated lunch if his stomach didn't stop trying to seek and destroy itself.

Oh, if there were stomach gods, he would sacrifice something… maybe, uh, maybe the food in his saddlebags that he had been hiding from Sir Marcus! Yes, that would do it. If there was such a thing as a stomach god. He doubted there was, but maybe it wouldn't hur—uh—urgh…

Maybe the stomach gods were angry because he had eaten _so much_ at lunch. Well, the food was delicious, especially considering the cooks—Rebecca and Merlinus!—had to make enough food for an entire…entire arm—ah…ahh….

Suddenly, he paused in his nausea-induced agony and closed his eyes, thinking very, very hard.

The…the soup. The potato soup. It had been awfully tasty, he remembered…

And…and oh. _Oh._

"M-Merlinus," he managed when his horse aligned itself with the front of the overloaded supply wagon.

"What can I do for you, Sir Lowen?" The older man smiled slightly, tilting his head. "You don't look as if you're feeling particularly chipper."

"I'm not…" Then, after a moment, "Did the…the soup that you and R-Rebecca make… B-By any chance, did…" He paused, letting another bout of nausea pass him by. "Did you somehow acquire f-fresh milk?"

"Oh, yes! It was actually quite a splendid find, you see. Rebecca, a dear as always, and Wil, chipper lad, he is, traded some game they managed to catch that we wouldn't be able to eat fast enough. Those two are just…so eager when it comes to hunting. N-Not that that's a bad thing!" he said quickly, waving his arm. "But there were four or five others also hunting at the same time. I thought trading some meat for milk would be a nice change for everyone!"

"O-Oh, okay." Nodding, he nudged his horse away. "I-It was good soup, but…but I can't drink milk. I-It makes me…me…"

Oh, God. St. Elimine. Whoever would bother to listen to him! Everything was suddenly very…very spinny. Which he found odd.

His forehead met the mane of his horse, and he kept it there for a long, long time.

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

More pointless drivel! But at least Lowen realizes he didn't anger the stomach gods...


	13. M is for Matrimony: Sain, Fiora

**Matrimony****  
By: Manna

* * *

**

…_**xOx…**_

This Is the Fault of: Qieru

Matrimony (māt'rə-mō'nē): The act or state of being married; marriage.

* * *

**_...xOx..._**

A few vows in front of a priest, a couple of rings, and a kiss later, they were husband and wife. Their wedding had been simple.

He liked extravagance, elegance, but Ilia and its climate, its poverty, didn't allow for that. She wore a plain, long white dress; he wore nice clothes. In the end, her practicality had won; splendor didn't make a marriage, after all.

He remembered gushing to her about her thoughtful words and how much they meant to him.

Sain was, and had always been, very carefree. It was obvious to everyone around them that she played the dominant role in their relationship. So it came as a surprise when, one day, he put his foot down as man of the house and insisted that they move from the frozen land of Ilia to—well, anywhere else.

"What about Farina?" she immediately argued. "I can't just leave h—"

"Farina's a grown woman," he answered, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Why? Why are we leaving?" Her voice was soft, tired, worn and weary.

That was why they were leaving, he reminded himself, but he couldn't tell her that. No, she was almost as stuck to her duty as Kent had been—and could still be, as far as he knew—to his. "Just trust your faithful Sain on this one," he said instead.

So they moved from the poverty-stricken wasteland back to Caelin; in exchange for a little land, a share of the crop, and a little cash from the sale of extra grain, he agreed to work the land with one of his older cousins.

Caelin hadn't changed too much in the years he had been away; Lady Lyndis was gone, and so was Kent. He wasn't entirely sure what had happened to either of them; rumors continued to fly even years after their departure together. Hopefully, they were alive and well. Hopefully, they were happy.

Shortly after their move, Fiora found herself expecting. He couldn't even express his delight properly; he could, however, admit to himself that he was grateful they had made their way out of Ilia. That land was no place to raise children.

It wasn't until her belly grew great and round that he started to worry. He woke up two hours early to do everything she normally did. There really was no sense in her lifting buckets of feed for the chickens or bending down to gather eggs. No, not when he was perfectly capable of doing so, himself.

She seemed to almost resent being put on a pedestal, but took it in stride.

"After the baby's born, you'll never find a moment's peace," he insisted, bringing her breakfast in bed; he rubbed her stomach and talked to the little one inside. "I think that she can understand me," he said.

"She?"

"It's going to be a girl."

Sain really didn't know, himself, but he had a feeling that he and Fiora would have a daughter, a sweet young thing that would be beautiful like her mother and cheerful like her father.

Sure enough, it was a girl, but she looked like him, and she was quiet, like her mother.

There were three more children afterward; both of them remembered the breakfasts in bed, and the long, lazy summer afternoons when the work had been done for the day. Those days were long gone.

Their oldest married, the others following suit one after another, and eventually, they had those days back. They couldn't enjoy them, not with Bern causing trouble and their middle son fighting in Ostia's military. They didn't even know where their youngest was.

They sat in a chair together on the front porch; she sat on his lap and he held her close. Sometimes, he liked to wonder about the others, but he found that dwelling on such things didn't help. Lyn, formerly Lady Lyndis, had been living in Sacae with Kent. What were the chances, after Bern's attack, that either were alive? He wondered if he would recognize them if he saw them; he wondered if they had had any children.

And what about Farina? Florina had died years ago, and Ninian, too.

They were all so _old_, he suddenly realized, his hands rubbing his wife's back. They had been through so, _so much_, and they had come out of everything victorious. Fiora had given birth to four children; how blessed they were! He was still in good enough health to work in the fields, and she still fed the chickens and the cows and kept up the house.

"Let's retire for the night, love," he murmured, tugging on the end of her braid that had been loosened by the day's work.

"I just realized something," she said, getting to her feet, turning around to help him out of the low chair. "You stopped using all of those fancy nicknames of yours. I don't miss them, but why? Why did you stop?"

"Well, my lovely Ilian flower," he teased, holding the door open to let her in the house before him. "A long time ago, I realized that splendor held no real sway over a relationship; a marriage is made either good or bad because of the people in it. Words are only words, and love is love, whether poetically beautiful or strangely simple."

"So you finally came to your senses, then," she laughed, the lines around her eyes and mouth showing not just her age, but also the many, many times he had made her smile.

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

First, I always thought that for Fiora and Sain, she would be the more dominant personality. However, Sain acting as "man of the house" is not intended to be negative in any way, nor is that meant to offend. In medieval times, it was his job to make decisions that would affect his family. And he had decided that Ilia was no place for them to live. Anyway, I hope this was enjoyable though a little different, I think, from what I normally write. Thanks for reading, and please leave feedback!


	14. N is for Nescience: Serra

**Nescience  
By: Manna

* * *

**

…_**xOx…**_

This Is the Fault of: Bandnerd88

Nescience (něs'ē-əns): Absence of knowledge or awareness; ignorance.

* * *

**_...xOx..._**

They laughed at her.

It was cold in the winter, and they scarcely had food or blankets; some nights they didn't even have a fire. The children huddled together for warmth.

But not Serra. No, nobody wanted to hear her say that her parents would come for her. Nobody wanted to hear her brag that she was related to a count, that maybe, if they were all lucky, they could go home with her when her parents were able to come take her away.

They were all delicate in their own way, whether big or small. Their hearts had been broken once, twice, a thousand times. They couldn't take anymore, they were tired of hurting, of feeling hope and having it burn, of trusting and being betrayed.

But Serra believed that her parents would come, that eventually, she would have food, and shelter, and a warm fire, whether she needed it or not. She'd wear warm slippers and a thick nightgown to bed every night. She'd have beautiful dresses and marry a rich man… She'd never have to worry, and she'd never be hungry or cold or alone again.

While the other children took shelter side-by-side to preserve all the warmth they could, she sat by herself next to the cold, drafty window, staring out through the frosted glass. Daydreams became her reality.

She remembered a better life, barely. It hovered at the edge of her consciousness as she pulled a threadbare blanket around her thin shoulders and shivered as the inhabitants of the abbey waited for the snowstorm to end so that someone could bring food to them because they had been without for two days.

That better life was so grand, so elegant, that it had to have been that of a high-ranking noble family. There was warmth, an apron, and something that reminded her of happiness. Maybe that was all she really wanted out of life.

And someday, she told the other children, she would be happy. Someday, the terrible dispute of titles and land and heirs would be over, and her mother and father would come for her, smiles on their faces and love in their hearts.

All they did was laugh.

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

I love Serra. She rarely gets enough credit.


	15. O is for Opulence: Serra, Uther

**Opulence****  
By: Manna

* * *

**

…_**xOx…**_

This Is the Fault of: Forced Simile

Opulence (ŏp'yə-ləns): Wealth; affluence.

* * *

**_...xOx..._**

It…it was more money than she had ever seen in her entire life. She held her head high as he put the coins in her hand and told her to have a new dress made; vassals of House Ostia were to look presentable at all times.

She couldn't even feel offended by his words. He was the marquess of Ostia, young and handsome and…and very, very kind.

When she returned to her room—ten times the size of the space she had been allowed to have in the abbey—she sat down on the edge of the bed—it had real feathers in the mattress and in the pillow—the first pillow she had ever had—and she held those gold coins to her face, refusing to look down at her worn, patched dress.

The cold metal felt good against her skin.

The bed felt warm, the blankets and pillow soft.

She cried.

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

Serra is an amazing character. This was probably my favorite of all the prompts given to me. I love how this one turned out.


	16. P is for Purity: Lucius

**Purity****  
By: Manna

* * *

**

…_**xOx…**_

This Is the Fault of: Kanthia

Purity (pyŏŏr'ĭ-tē): the condition or quality of being pure; freedom from anything that debases, contaminates, pollutes, etc.

* * *

**_...xOx..._**

He hadn't always been a monk in the service of St. Elimine. No, when he was but a child, his parents had died, and he had been placed in an orphanage.

He spent many years there with other children whose hopes had been crushed, whose parents had died. Some saw a parent waste away as he had. Others had seen far, far worse.

All of them had something in common; they were all completely and utterly alone.

Their common ground didn't bring them together; it kept them apart. They were lonely, broken-hearted children, every single one of them. Even when they played together, walls were erected around them. If they let someone in, they worried that they would lose them, and they'd have to feel that pain all over again.

Lucius was no different, though perhaps a little more friendly, a little less trusting. He had been teased for his delicate frame, his long, thick hair, and the fact that he easily took ill, but it didn't bother him too much.

He didn't know what he wanted out of life, and perhaps it didn't even matter. If there was one thing being raised in an orphanage taught you, it was that loving someone made them leave. At first, he hadn't believed it, but then he realized he couldn't remember his father's face, and all he could recall about his mother was her frail, sickly form just before her death.

Love couldn't keep someone alive.

But faith? Faith could. Faith gave him something to believe in, a higher power to trust. Saint Elimine and God would watch over him; surely they had a reason for taking his parents from him, and from the other children. It was all part of a master plan. He fell into service to the church, took vows of chastity without second thought, and believed and hoped and prayed and trusted. His faith would be with him even when others couldn't be.

The other young men and women came and left, took and broke their vows as love or lust came and swept them away.

But he stayed. The purest of them all, some joked. They were all envious, though they never said as much. How could one man be so faithful, so innocent, so _pure_?

There was only one answer to that, he thought, though he could only shrug and smile sheepishly in response to such queries.

He remembered that little, tiny, blond boy he had been, and the never-ending ache, the feeling of being completely and utterly alone even in the most crowded of places; it was as real in his mind as it had been inside the somber walls of the orphanage.

The truth was, his faith was all he had had for so long that he was afraid if he did as so many others had done, if he broke his vows, if he became _just a man_, he would lose the only thing that had always been there for him.

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

POINTLESS. Yes. Also note that a person can be friendly and untrusting at the same time. Just because you appear to be friendly with someone does not mean that you necessarily trust them. And something else worth mentioning is that God is mentioned by Saul in FE6. (Elimine is, after all, only a Saint, and a Saint usually follows God, as in, they exist to follow one God. Seeing as how Elibe's religious system loosely seems to follow the Catholic teachings…)


	17. Q is for Questionable: Sain, Fiora

**Questionable (Behavior)****  
By: Manna

* * *

**

…_**xOx…**_

This Is the Fault of: Sardonic Kender Smile

Questionable (kwěs'chə-nə-bəl): Liable to question; subject to be doubted or called in question; problematical; doubtful; suspicious.

* * *

**_...xOx..._**

Since Fiora's love had brought Sain back from the brink of death—his words, not hers—he had been acting unusual.

It was strange enough, she thought, that he would work so hard even while sick that he would actually faint on the battlefield, but ever since his recovery, he hadn't been quite the same.

He was still by her side as always, fighting diligently to "protect" her—as if she _needed_ protecting!—and he would smile at her constantly, too. She allowed him to stay with her, if only because he was a good partner and knew how to hold his own in a fight. Lately, though, he hadn't…really…

"Ah, Fiora!"

Speak of the devil…

"Sain…"

"Is everything okay? How fare you this evening?"

"I am well. And yourself?"

"Splendid, my dear, splendid! Well, I must be off…!"

And with that, the cheerful knight wandered away. To say that Fiora was confused would be an understatement. Usually he spoke with such passion and elegance that to have a relatively normal conversation with him was, well, odd. It had started shortly after his declaration that her love had brought him back from the chasm that would lead to death—or whatever it was he had said—and normal conversations with Sain were now…normal.

Or not, because it was so weird that it just didn't make any sense.

Maybe he hoped to win her affection by ceasing his meaningless flattery?

The man was handsome, she could give him that, and his smile was by all means infectious. Her only problem with him had been his ceaseless flirting.

If it was only an act to win her—or anyone else's—love, though, he wasn't being himself, and in turn it would be…a sham? Certainly.

She had to speak to him about it, then.

She found him dutifully polishing his armor—with Kent nowhere in sight, for once, though perhaps he was avoiding irritating the other man—a smile of contentment on his face as he did so. His hair was falling in his eyes—and really, she wanted to push it aside, but that was probably only because it made him look so _messy_—but he looked up at her soft approach.

"Fiora." He stopped his work to give her his undivided attention. "So nice to see you again so soon!"

Her brow furrowed a little in…in _something._ It might have been aggravation, but why would she be upset that he wasn't spouting off some line about her flying into his heart, or saying that he had been struck by Cupid's arrow?

"Do you need anything? I'll do what I can to help!" He smiled and resumed polishing, stopping to glance up at her every now and then.

"Yes," she finally said, her voice quiet but firm. "Yes, there is. Stop talking like that."

"Like this? But why?" He smiled disarmingly as he was prone to do, and she frowned.

"It is not like you, that is why. You don't even talk that way to Lady Lyndis."

"She would think I was up to something, or that a doppelganger had traded places with me."

"I have been wondering that, myself."

"Ah, my feelings have been trampled! Fiora, why would you suspect me so?" His hand came to rest over his heart as he shook his head and sighed, though it wasn't quite as exaggerated as usual.

"Sain, if you do not start acting your usual self right now, I will be forced to shove my lance through you on grounds of suspicion that you are a spy infiltrating our camp." She was mostly joking, though it hardly showed in her facial expression or her tone of voice.

"Oh!" His hazel eyes widened considerably. "Why, Fiora, dare I say that you _enjoy_ hearing me compliment you?" He jumped up and took her hands, making her raise an eyebrow as she tried to look away from the all-too eager expression on his face.

"And dare I say that this was a trap all along?" she mumbled to herself.

He only grinned. "Since you are giving me permission to speak in my usual way, I would like you to choose your endearment! It's only fair, isn't it? So what do you want to be? Lovely Fiora? Sweet Fiora? Dear Fiora?"

She sighed. "You know, I—"

"Oh, I know!" His voice took on a sing-song quality and he leaned in closer to her, his nose nearly touching hers.

She felt very uncomfortable, to say the least. And his hair was still in his eyes. Her fingers might have twitched at the urge to move it out of the way, but his hands were gripping hers, so that was an impossibility.

"How about _beautiful_ Fiora because you're even more beautiful than my benevolent Lady Lyndis!" Suddenly, he paused and looked over his shoulder. "Oh, but don't let Kent know that I said that… he would be most displeased!"

"Sain, I—"

"You're right, beautiful Fiora! We both have work to do, so we shouldn't chat here, now. Not to mention the gossip that might get started about us should we continue to stand so close!" He grinned wider, letting her go—only after kissing the back of one of her hands, of course—and sat back down to finish making his armor shine. "But we shall talk later, you and I, right?"

"I… Certainly." She shrugged and walked off, feeling slightly dazed.

"Do not worry! Your faithful Sain will continue to protect you as always!"

Maybe… Maybe she should have kept her mouth shut? Oh, it didn't matter anyway, did it? Probably not. He couldn't have possibly kept that charade up forever, could he?

Forever. But, ah, why would she even _think_ of that? She shook her head and sighed; maybe it would be best to refrain from pondering on such things again for a while.

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

Poor Fiora. She doesn't know what she's getting into… Or does she?


	18. R is for Rebellion: Kent, Lyndis

**Rebellion****  
By: Manna

* * *

**

…_**xOx…**_

This Is the Fault of: Kanthia

Rebellion (rĭ-běl'yən):An act or a show of defiance toward an authority or established convention.

* * *

**_...xOx..._**

It wasn't as if it had been planned; it was, as Lyndis insisted, how things had to be.

Kent couldn't say that he understood Lyn completely, but he did know one thing; she was tired of hiding.

A few months after returning to Caelin, she stubbornly refused to wear the large, cumbersome dresses that she was expected to appear in, and instead wore her own clothes. People clucked and tsk'd and sighed in annoyance just at the sight of her, sometimes, but she couldn't help it.

"First, this is more comfortable," she told him when he asked, concerned about the reactions she had been receiving. "And second, I'm not trying to be rebellious; I have to hold audience and listen to people's problems. I have to judge them fairly and make important decisions… How can I sit before them when I feel as if I'm lying about who I really am?"

Her clothes, her manners, her speech…they didn't make up Lyndis in her entirety.

Everything had begun long before, when he had reluctantly admitted his feelings for her, and she had accepted. Time had passed, and they had entered into what could be considered a secret relationship. The only one who knew was Florina; Kent hadn't even mentioned it to Sain for fear of it slipping out accidentally.

Then, the group had visited Pherae. Eliwood's mother was a wonderful woman, and Lyndis had immediately liked her. Unfortunately, Lady Eleanora had liked Lyn, too—enough to want her to marry her son.

"Well, milady, you are expected to marry—" Kent had tried to reason with her.

"I'm not marrying Eliwood!"

She told him that she didn't care if they could never marry one another; she fully intended to stay with him.

Ah, it only made him love her more.

Once in Caelin again, things became more difficult. Sentries were in the halls, and Lyndis constantly had a guard outside her door. Kent was always working, trying desperately to return Caelin's military to what it had been; Lyndis had meetings and banquets and her grandfather to worry about. It left them both with little time for one another, and resulted in quite a few close calls in darkened hallways.

Lyndis was tired, and had been for a long, long time.

She acted properly, spoke sweetly, but she refused to become someone that she was not. This vexed quite a few people, but they didn't matter, not to her.

It was a banquet that sent her over the edge. Kent had been, as usual, standing against the wall. It was his job—or rather, that of the Caelin Knights—to guard her and her grandfather, not to mention the other guests. He could see her irritation start to build, could see it in her eyes and the slight frown on her lips.

Lord Hausen and Chancellor Reissmann were talking about marriage, again. Marriage to secure Caelin's and Lyn's future. Marriage that Lyn wanted no part of.

"We waited too long to arrange for her to marry Lord Eliwood of Pherae," Reissmann was saying, shaking his head. "I hear he married a foreigner."

"Oh, but what about Lord Hector of Ostia?" one of the guests chimed in, a tall, thin man whose spectacles threatened to fall off of his face.

"Of course!" his wife agreed, nodding. "He isn't married yet, and an alliance with Ostia would be quite profitable…"

"He's marrying my best friend!" Lyndis finally burst out, having had enough. "I refuse to marry Hector!"

Kent bowed his head slightly, unable to take his eyes off of the love of his life, but...he couldn't help but feel just a little guilty.

He knew Lyndis loved him and didn't want any other man—and that warmed his heart considerably—but compared to any nobleman, he had nothing to offer her; their future together, if they were allowed to have one, would be fraught with complications, and quite unstable.

After a pause, her grandfather spoke, his voice quiet and weak, "It's okay, Lyndis… I'll find someone more suitab—"

She leapt to her feet, startling not only Kent, but the entire room. "No, no you won't! No one will!"

She was breathing hard, anger on her face.

But he saw something more: desperation.

"Stop trying to marry me off. I already have—"

Curious faces turned their full attention on her.

She faltered, "I- I already have someone." She turned pleading eyes on her grandfather. "Grandfather, please…"

He blinked. "Who is it, Lyndis?"

She hesitated, and Kent's heart started to pound in his chest, unsure of what her reaction would be. She bit her lip, turned to catch his gaze, and walked right up to him, resting a hand on his breastplate. "I'm sorry," she murmured, only for him to hear, "but I… I can't hide anymore."

And then, she kissed him. In front of her guests, in front of the chancellor, and even in front of her lord grandfather. He kissed her back, gently, his fingers lightly caressing the side of her face for a moment before she pulled away, smiling fondly at him.

After the stunned silence passed, everyone turned to Lord Hausen, and he spoke, clearing his throat first, "Kent…" Disappointment, perhaps, was evident in his voice. "Is this true?"

The knight's first reaction was to apologize, but he bit his tongue, looking down at Lyn before replying. "Yes, milord. What she says is truth."

"You could be demoted or jailed for this," Chancellor Reissmann frowned. "Do you realize that?"

Kent lowered his head, but Lyndis crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.

"He won't be," she insisted. "Or you'll have to do the same to me!"

"That could be poss—!"

"Chancellor." Hausen's hand waved in the air slightly. "Please. I lost my daughter. I do not intend to lose my granddaughter, too." His eyes returned to Lyn. "You cannot marry him due to your rank."

"I revoke my rank, then." Stubbornly, she met his gaze. "My title, whatever it is. I don't want it."

The old man laughed, a croaking, hoarse sound that was beautiful to the ears of several people in the room. "Ah, if only a person could change their blood," he said, gently, and a few people nodded, exchanging glances. "I can't say that I approve, either. But I won't get in the way. I won't lose both you and your mother to the same lack of understanding."

Lyndis smiled, and Kent bowed low at the waist. Neither of them could expect Lord Hausen to approve; the fact that he wasn't pulling them apart was, in and of itself, very generous of him. It was more than they deserved.

"Now, run along and take a walk," the old man encouraged. "I have messengers to three different cantons to stop, thanks to the two of you."

"Thank you, Grandfather," she answered, grabbing Kent's arm. "Now, let's go."

"Yes milady," he answered, a smile teasing at the very corners of his lips as he obediently fell into step next to her.

Once out of sight of the others, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him again, this time leisurely. "I'm sorry," she said softly, running her fingers through his hair. "I didn't intend to let my temper get the best of me, today."

"It is fine," he insisted, relieved more than he cared to admit. "Nothing terrible happened. I… We are very blessed, milady."

"We most certainly are." She hooked her arm through his, smiling serenely. "Now, let's go to the stables."

"Lady Lyndis?"

"Instead of a walk, I think a nice ride to the hill is in order, don't you? It's nice and quiet, there, and just the two of us…"

He certainly couldn't argue with that logic.

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

Le sigh.

I totally bombed this. Sorry Kanthia.

On the bright side, at least it's Kent/Lyn.

(Happy Birthday, Qieru!)

Thanks for reading, feedback would be nice.


	19. S is for Stitch: Heath, Kent

**Stitch****  
By: Manna

* * *

**

…_**xOx…**_

This Is the Fault of: Xirysa

Stitch (stĭch): To fasten or join with or as if with stitches.

* * *

**_...xOx..._**

It wasn't something that he was proud of. Leaving Commander Vaida behind to act as a decoy so that he and the others could escape? Ah, it had been a decision he had regretted from the moment his back had turned.

He was the only survivor.

Vaida, bless her and her bravery, had lived, too.

But the others had died, and an ugly scar marred Vaida's beauty; he wished that he could have taken it in her place.

They had made the right decision in refusing to kill the unarmed villagers. Those men—_and women! And children!_—had done nothing wrong. They had fled in terror at the mere sight of the mighty wyvern riders of Bern.

Time had passed, and he had closed off those memories as best as he could. It wasn't something that he wanted to dwell on, nor remember. He was a mercenary no longer; he wanted a lord to serve, a country to fight for. He missed how he had felt before, serving under someone he would willingly give his life for.

Kent, a fellow soldier, served under a Lycian house, and he had mentioned that Caelin's gates were always open to strong soldiers wishing to join their military.

Heath had thought about it for a long time, and the other man seemed to be genuinely serious and dedicated. It was intriguing, to say the least.

He wanted to serve under a lord and be happy and proud to be there. He wanted to fight for a country he loved.

He wanted, more than anything, to put his past behind him.

He wanted to move on.

But the thread that held his past together, sealed it away at the back of his mind, fell apart with one simple, impertinent question.

"Why did you have to leave the knights of Bern?"

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

I love Heath's supports with Kent. (The last line of dialogue, if you didn't know or have forgotten, is Kent asking Heath in their B Support.) First of all, it's clear he's a little miffed that Kent would ask about such things. He doesn't seem to want to talk about his past. Of course, to join Caelin's military, he has to go through Kent, so he spills his story.


	20. T is for Tarradiddle: Kent, Lyn, Farina

**Tarradiddle****  
By: Manna

* * *

**

…_**xOx…**_

This Is the Fault of: Qieru

Tarradiddle (tār'ə-dĭd'l): a small lie; fib.

* * *

**_...xOx..._**

"I-I'm fine."

It had, at the time, seemed like such a small lie. Of course he wasn't fine! For Elimine's sake, he had been shot with an arrow!

But it had only grazed his leg. The cut was deep, and it bled, but it wasn't stuck in him, so he had brushed it off, much to Farina's annoyance.

Well, fine. If he thought that it was nothing, then it was nothing. It reminded her of what her sister had said regarding Sain and what _he_ had said right before he fainted dead away only a week earlier.

So she shrugged and took him at his word as blood soaked through the material of his pants.

A few minutes passed, and she glanced over at him again, noticing sweat beading across his forehead and neck. His hands were trembling just slightly.

"Are you _sure_ you're okay?" she asked, staring at him.

"Yes," he said, swallowing. It seemed to take a great deal of effort to do so, but what could she do about it? Order him back to camp? Well, she wasn't his liege, so he probably wouldn't listen to her anyway; in fact, he would probably _find_ his liege and fight with her, instead. Which would be _just fine_ except for the fact that he was bleeding all over the—

Her head whipped around just in time to see him slump in his saddle, his head resting against his horse's neck.

"I told you that you thought about duty too much."

"I…must apologize for that," he murmured, eyes closed. His face was pale and sweat was practically dripping from his chin.

"You're not okay."

"I-I suppose…not…"

She took his horse's reins and scanned the horizon, eyes landing immediately on his liege. Well, wouldn't he be happy to see _her_? Rolling her eyes, she sighed. It was really closer to being the other way around. The man was _clueless_. Not that it mattered, of course. Men were all clueless, as far as Farina was concerned.

She kicked her pegasus, and he tucked his wings in, taking off at a canter. Kent's horse obediently followed. She checked over her shoulder once to make sure that he was still hanging on; despite the humor factor, it wouldn't do to hand Kent's horse over to Lady Lyndis without its rider. The woman would probably be furious, if not scared out of her mind. Though both at the same time was definitely not out of the question.

The noble lady of Caelin looked anything but noble with blood on her clothes and dirt on her face, but that long green hair of hers was unmistakable.

"He's poisoned," Farina said shortly, tossing the reins down to Lyndis. "You stay here with him while I find someone who can help."

"I-I think Pent has something for poison!" she called as Murphy took to the sky.

The advantage of having pegasus knights in any army was really their vantage point. Wyverns were loud and noisy, but pegasi were quieter—despite their large wings, they didn't make much noise when they flew. Also, they were much smaller, which made them nimble; they could take off and land quickly.

She spotted Pent and his wife, Louise, within moments, and nudged her pegasus in the side. Down they went, down, down, _down_. Time was of the essence, after all. Kent was annoying, sometimes—okay, so he wasn't _that_ bad—but he was a valuable member of the army. And he was pretty handsome, for a clueless man who acted exactly like her uptight sister.

By the time she returned—with a wide-eyed Pent on the back of her noble steed—the redheaded knight was scarcely moving at all except to breathe. It seemed to take more effort for him to take in and expel air than it did for a person to run a mile.

"If you hadn't lied to me," she said, nudging him in the side with the toe of her boot, "you could have been with Pent before you collapsed."

Lyndis shooed her foot away and glared at her, though Farina could tell that there wasn't any venom behind it…just worry. The other woman's hand stroked his hair once, carefully, making the pegasus knight roll her eyes for the second time that day.

Finally, Farina sighed, and Lyn looked up.

"I'm sorry," Lyn said. "Thank you for helping him. He could have died, you know, without you…"

Regret was what Farina heard in Kent's lady liege's voice. It couldn't be anything else.

"No problem," she said, putting her hands on her hips. "I get paid more than he does, anyway."

Lyndis blinked. "O-Okay…"

"Oh, and…he needs more help than this. Really, compared to everything else he needs help with, this was quite literally nothing at all."

"What do you mean?" Brow furrowed in even more concern, Lyn bit her lip.

"I mean he's _completely clueless_."

"Clueless about _what?_"

Farina could just _tell_ that the other woman was not only curious, but perhaps a little scared. She was probably wondering what could be wrong with the man that she didn't already know about. Maybe she worried about internal injuries or something…

Ah, okay, fun over.

"About the fact that you _like_ him," she said shortly, pulling herself into Murphy's saddle and riding off to aid Louise before Lady Lyndis of Caelin could form a coherent reply.

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

I just wrote…whatever came to mind…


	21. U is for Ubiquitous: Kent, Lyndis

**Ubiquitous****  
By: Manna

* * *

**

…_**xOx…**_

This Is the Fault of: Qieru

Ubiquitous (yōō-bĭk'wĭ-təs): Being or seeming to be everywhere at the same time; omnipresent.

* * *

**_...xOx..._**

No matter where she looked, she was reminded of him.

The wooden swing hanging from the only tree around for miles had been built by him, as had the house, the furniture, the fence, the small barn…

Over there, by the river, he had nearly drowned after falling through the ice four winters ago, and he had come close to bleeding to death when an ox got nervous at being penned and drove a horn into his gut.

The large scar that covered the palm of his hand was from an accident driving fence posts into the ground; she saw those posts every day.

The topsoil was the color of his eyes in the morning, the tilled soil of the fields the color of his eyes in the evening,

His hair was the same brilliant red-orange of the setting sun, and he smelled like horses and grass and light.

He was everywhere and in everything, it seemed.

Suddenly, she heard a cry, "Mama! Mama!" and she turned around, her eyes meeting those of a young boy as he ran toward her, stumbling on occasion only to pick himself back up again to continue on his way to her.

Finally, he was in her arms, and a smile was on both of their faces. "Hi," she said simply, pressing her lips against his unruly auburn hair.

"Mama, we're back," he said proudly.

"I see that." Gently, she set him down, and he ran off, presumably to play.

She watched him go until a pair of arms wrapped around her from behind, and she felt a kiss against her neck. Leaning back against the warmth of his chest, she sighed, enjoying the feeling for a moment before turning around in his embrace, her hands stroking his hair, his nose, his ears, his jaw.

"We have seeds for planting, now," he said softly, one of his hands catching hers so that he could bring it to his lips to kiss. Their fingers entwined afterward, and she hugged him to her, tightly.

"You were gone for far too long," she insisted.

"You missed me?" He was teasing; she could tell by the tone of his voice.

"Oh, maybe…" she answered, feigning indifference.

"Maybe?" He lowered his head and nibbled on her earlobe before kissing the skin just behind it.

"Mmm, okay, I did." She bit back a grin and wrapped her arms around his neck. "And did you miss me?"

"Every moment we're apart," he answered, "I miss you."

"Why didn't you teach Sain how to talk like that? I'm sure he would have had better luck with—"

He placed a finger over her lips, and she bit the end of it, playfully.

"I know what you want," she said, and he chuckled, kissing her once.

"What's that?"

"We can show one another how much we missed each other, but not until later, after he's asleep."

Their son was playing in the grass with what looked like a stick. Ah, children, so easily amused…

"That's fair enough," he said, turning her around so that she could see her son while he let his chin rest on the top of her head. "But I missed you a lot…"

"I missed you more," she countered lazily, leaning against him.

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

Okay, so at first this was going to be depressing, but then a non-depressing idea hit me. So you get this, instead. Hm.


	22. V is for Victory: Sain, Florina

**Victory****  
By: Manna

* * *

**

**…_xOx…_**

This Is the Fault of: Aviatrix8

Victory (vĭk'tə-rē): The ultimate and decisive superiority in any battle or contest.

* * *

**_...xOx..._**

It was the moment of truth.

There wasn't a clashing of swords and lances, there wasn't shouts of battle or of pain. There was a victory to be won that was of the utmost importance, and for the first time in a long time, it had nothing to do with a war.

Sain smiled encouragingly at the little lavender-haired former pegasus knight, and she smiled back, swallowing nervously before answering with those all-important words.

"I-I do…"

The church exploded in cheers, and he swore he could hear something about how he'd die a horrible, painful death if he didn't take care of Florina, but the next thing he knew, her lips met his halfway; they were husband and wife.

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

A short one, here. A very short one. But a victory for Sain (he found a woman!) and a victory for Florina (she's brave now!). Either way, it was fun.


	23. W is for Wraith: Hector, Florina

**Wraith****  
By: Manna

* * *

**

…_**xOx…**_

This Is the Fault of: Qieru

Wraith (rāth): An apparition of a living person that appears as a portent just before that person's death; something shadowy and insubstantial.

* * *

**_...xOx..._**

She hovered there, kind of like a really cute ghost. Her hands clutched the skirt of her dress, her eyes were wide, and her lips pursed together.

This time, she would do it! She knew that she would! She had to, she just…she had to finally thank Lord Hector for saving her so long ago. Oh, but she was so late in her reply, he would probably think her stupid. B-But he seemed nice enough, didn't he? Yes, yes of course!

E-Even Lyn said that he was nice when he wasn't annoying…

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out, and she almost burst into tears. N-No, it just wasn't fair! She knew what she was going to say, a-and she just couldn't make herself say it! It wasn't like he was a m-monster or anything. He was just another h-human being!

Finally, after she swallowed, she gathered up more of her courage. "L-Lord Hector!" she said, but her voice was squeaky and too soft.

He didn't move.

She tried again, "Lord H-H-Hector?"

No response. B-But she had spoken louder the second time! She took a few steps closer to him, and tried a third time—third time's the charm, right?

"Lord Hector!"

Oh, she was _so_ proud of herself for not even stuttering once!

And yet, nothing. W-What was she? Invisible?

A step closer, though, and she realized the problem.

He had fallen asleep with his back against the log behind him. Tears of frustration made their way to her eyes as she groaned. O-Oh, it just wasn't fair! She left, shoulders slumped slightly.

A few minutes later, the soon-to-be marquess of Ostia awoke, rubbing at his eyes. _That was the strangest dream I've ever had_, he thought to himself, shaking his head as he stood and looked around him. _The entire thing consisted of some ghost that just hovered behind me. It was actually kind of creepy. And Lyn thinks I'm the monster! Hah!

* * *

_

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

More pointlessness. YES.


	24. X is for Xanthous: Pent, Louise

**Xanthous****  
By: Manna

* * *

**

…_**xOx…**_

This Is the Fault of: Sardonic Kender Smile

Xanthous (zān'thəs): Yellow; yellowish.

* * *

**_...xOx..._**

His hand rubbed the hard, outward curve of her belly, and she smiled, her fingers intertwining with his.

"What is it, my Lord Pent?"

He smiled at her, kissing her cheek. They were both sitting on a swing in the garden, surrounded by flowers and sunlight; the day was beautiful, calm. It was the first day that had had to themselves in several months, and both intended to enjoy it to the fullest.

Pent hadn't even brought a book with him. She was leaning against his chest, her legs stretched out on the long bench of the swing, her feet bare—they had been hurting terribly, lately, after all—and her hair pulled back to keep it out of her face.

"Soon," was his reply.

"Yes, soon," she teased, closing her eyes, able to feel and see the light through them anyway. "Soon we'll be parents… What do you think, my lord, my nose, or yours?"

"Yours," he said automatically, smiling against her hair.

"I think yours," she insisted.

"Fine, my nose. But your hair."

"My hair?" She laughed. "I like yours…"

He pulled her braid off of her neck and held it out, letting the sun play off of it, making it shine like fresh hay, like spun gold. "Do you see how beautiful your hair is, love? I would rather our children not be cursed with the hair of an old man as I seem to have."

"Old man? You're nothing like an old man…"

"Oh?" He released her blonde hair and let his cheek rest against hers. "What makes you so sure of that?"

"To be honest," she said mischievously, wriggling her toes. "My ankles are swollen, I've gained 40 pounds, and I feel as fat as a cow…"

"So?" He tried to lose his grin in glowing strands of her hair.

"Well, my Lord Pent, you had absolutely no trouble getting me into this condition."

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

HAHAH. Sorry.


	25. Y is for Young: Raven, Rebecca

**Young****  
By: Manna

* * *

**

…_**xOx…**_

This Is the Fault of: Forced Simile

Young (yŭng): Having the appearance, freshness, vigor, or other qualities of youth.

* * *

**_...xOx..._**

She was very energetic.

She was always talking or cooking or—or something. There was never a dull moment with her around.

She was sweet, caring, and oh-so innocent while being realistic and knowledgeable. A strange mix, to be certain.

Sain praised her beauty—well, she was pretty, he supposed—while Lowen praised her culinary skills—well, she was a good cook, he supposed—and Wil praised her aim with a bow—well, she was a good shot, he supposed.

Raven, on the other hand, couldn't think of one thing to praise her for except perhaps her liveliness, but that sounded downright stupid. Her smiles and enthusiasm infected everyone she was near—save for a select few.

If he didn't have other things on his mind, he might have let himself love her. Maybe. She was a good woman, sweet, affectionate; she was the type of woman who would never let a relationship turn stale. But he wasn't good for her, he knew, and there were other men competing for her heart that would treat her better than he ever could. So he would content himself with being another friendly—or as close to friendly as he could appear—face. He encouraged her subtly, reprimanded her when he had to, and in a sense, he began to feel closer to her than he had to any other woman, before.

Perhaps it was because she told him that he reminded her a little of her brother, or maybe it was because she reminded him a little of how his sister had acted many years ago, but the truth remained: they were close friends.

She was young—acted young, looked young—and she was so full of vigor and just…a general youthfulness that sometimes—only every now and again—made him feel a little jealous.

If only because he felt so old—so cynical, so hard-edged, so worn out —by comparison.

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

Uhm, I fail at writing both Raven and Rebecca.


	26. Z is for Zero: Kent, Lyndis

**Zero****  
By: Manna

* * *

**

…_**xOx…**_

This Is the Fault of: Xirysa

Zero (zîr'ō, zē'rō): A cipher; nothing; naught.

* * *

**_...xOx..._**

The sky was dark, cloudy, and rain fell from it with wild abandon. Lyndis, soaked completely through, entered her home before closing the door behind her.

Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, though it was terribly hard to tell such a thing thanks to the drops of water that slid down her face. She shuddered, chilled, and passed by several empty, unused rooms before she made her way into her bedroom.

After peeling off her drenched, cold dress, she changed into something else before stumbling in the dark once or twice, eventually managing to slide under the blankets on the bed; the warmth was comforting, she supposed, but not nearly enough.

She kept to her own side, burying her face in her pillow to soak up the tears that had begun to fall.

Warm, bare arms wrapped around her from behind.

The gesture was supposed to make her feel better, was supposed to console her, but it only made her cry harder.

"Lyn," he whispered after a time, his voice low and soft and very sleepy.

She felt ashamed for waking him up; he worked _so hard_ every day for her sake. It wasn't fair of her to fail him in so many ways. Certainly, she was nothing like what he had expected out of her as a wife.

Raising himself on one elbow, he moved closer to her and pushed her wet, messy ponytail out of the way, taking its spot. His chin settled on the top of her head, heedless of her damp hair, and his right elbow rested on her waist; his hand gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

She wanted to tell him to go away.

She wanted to tell him that she was sorry.

She said nothing for a long, long time.

"Lyndis…" He almost had an accent like hers, now. How long had they been out on the plains together? Five years… Five beautiful, glorious years; there was only one exception.

"Kent," she moaned sorrowfully, turning over slowly before hugging him to her. He was a quiet kind of strength, and his chest—scarred as it was from the war—was a familiar place to rest her head. Her warm tears snaked their way down his skin.

He smelled like sunlight and the grain he had spent the last few days harvesting.

His breath tickled her neck, "What's the matter, Lyndis?" After inhaling and receiving no answer, he breathed again, "What is it?"

She closed her eyes and held him closer, pressing his bare skin against her face as his hands rubbed her back. "I-I'm not… I'm… Again…" It was all that she could force out of her mouth, but she knew that he understood.

"It's okay." His voice was gentle, calm, soothing. Most women might have been comforted by it; they might have even felt content. But more tears fell at hearing them. For a long time, all she had heard from him was how good she was, that she was far too good for him. But the truth all along had been that he was too good for her.

Maybe, if she had said so from the beginning, if she had admitted that, then he could have found a better wife, and she could have returned to the plains, living her life alone as was fit for a woman in her situation.

"No, no it's not…" she sighed, wanting to cling to him and wanting to pull away at the same time. She found a medium; she chose to simply lay there in his arms. "It's been five years, and not…not _one_…"

He nuzzled her face with his, and pulled away, tilting her chin up to force her to look at him. "Lyn… We don't need children. It's okay if we don't have any."

She bit her lip and blinked watery eyes at him, nodding but not agreeing. It wasn't okay, it wasn't okay _at all_.

He must have known by the look on her face, because the next thing he said was, "I won't be upset if we never have children. I won't be angry. Lyndis…I love you, and having or not having children cannot change that."

She buried her face again, against the warmth that his body offered her, and she let him pull the blankets over her. She would feel better in the morning, she knew. She had been hoping—praying, pleading with any deity that would listen—that this time, she really would be pregnant, but she had started her cycle again.

Never had she hated the sight of blood so much.

If the Lorca had survived, if she had taken Kent to live with them, she would be forced to let her husband go because she could not provide an heir for him. Five years… Oh, women her age usually had several children, but she had none.

She had been pregnant before, three times, but all three times, she had lost the baby. Kent should have, by all means, punished her in some way for failing to carry his children. It was his right as her husband, but no matter how many times she tried to explain it to him, he just didn't understand, opting to show affection to her instead.

She told him that she would feel better if he'd hit her or make her sleep outside. Appalled at the idea, he had nearly cried, holding her close to him as if he thought maybe she would slip through his fingers like sand or water.

They had been trying so hard to have children. He would like to have them, she wanted them, so it was only natural. But five years had passed and she had been unable to produce a single one. By Lorcan law, he was allowed to send her away to take a new wife.

He would never do it, she knew that. And the Lorca were gone.

But she couldn't forget, couldn't change the things that had been imprinted on her mind.

She disgraced him by not giving him children.

She was failing in her duty as a wife.

Maybe, she told herself, Kent took her duty as a wife about as seriously as she had taken his duty as her vassal. The thought almost made her smile—almost.

Pulling away slightly, she noticed his brown eyes watching her; he looked so sleepy that she did smile, softly, before kissing him and settling back into his arms. "I love you, too, Kent…"

The corners of his lips turned up against her hair, "We'll sleep in tomorrow," he promised.

Yes, in the morning she would feel better.

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

Ah, the most depressing one. Well, first of all, I think it's perfectly plausible for Lyndis to be unable to have children, considering being poisoned put her into a coma for ten days. Second, a lot of cultures sadly did allow for men to marry a different woman if their wife couldn't produce children within so many years. (Some cultures it was less than five, some five, and some between five and ten years.) Third, in most cultures, especially until recently, it was disgraceful for a woman not to have children. Finally, Kent letting them sleep in? Is supposed to be something rare and something Lyn enjoys.

So, this is the last one. I hope you enjoyed this little set of letters! There is another set to come, but it will take longer to post than this one, I'm afraid.

Feedback would be very much appreciated! Please take care!


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